Couch Potatoes
by Roga
Summary: Two vampires, two hundred channels, one wacky dialogue.


Couch Potatoes  
By Dana  
  
Summary: Two bored vampires, two hundred channels, one wacky dialogue. I dare you to recognize all the different shows mentioned...  
  
Disclaimer: Well, the only characters I *used* belong to Joss Whedon. The rest are only discussed.  
  
Spoilers: I really can't say. None for Buffy or Angel, though, and probably none for any of the other shows.  
  
Dedication: This is for my amazing sister, Carmel, whom you all have to thank because she's the one bugging me to finish Master of Tactics. Of course, so of you might think she likes Rob a bit too much, which is having a bad influence on me... Happy Birthday!  
  
* * *  
  
APRIL 28th, 2002  
01:34 PM  
  
Two bodies were slouched on the couch in Xander's basement, waiting for the sun to set.   
  
"For the seventh time, could you please switch the channel?"  
  
"No."  
  
"I'm begging you, Angel! How many times have you heard me beg?"  
  
"Do you really want me to start counting?"  
  
"Never mind."  
  
"That's what I thought."  
  
For another three minutes they watched the flickering screen, until an aggravated groan interrupted yet again.   
  
"I hate that Dick!"  
  
A mildly annoyed eyebrow was raised in response. "There's really no need to curse, Spike."  
  
Spike stared back. "It's his name, Angel. He's Dick Clark. This is the frigging Blooper show, and I'm starting to sound like Dr. Evil so could you please just change the channel!" he ended with a shout.  
  
With a sigh, Angel complied. "Oh, look. Party of Five."  
  
"First of all, they're reruns, and secondly, what are you doing watching Party of Five?"  
  
"First of all, I don't *watch* it, I occasionally catch an episode when Cordelia *forces* me to, and secondly, how did you know they were reruns?"  
  
There was a slightly embarrassed pause in the conversation as the two vampires avoided each other's eyes, and Angel obliquely changed the channel.  
  
"Cool! Lois and Clark. Leave it."  
  
"I'm not going to watch Lois and Clark, Spike."  
  
"That's because you have a failing-superhero complex. Leave it on, I think it's the episode where Balki kidnaps Lois."  
  
"Balki?"  
  
"You know, the guy from that show with Balki and Larry."  
  
"Who plays the French guy on Step by Step?"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"Why does he kidnap Lois?"  
  
"I don't know, she gets kidnapped averagely twice an episode."  
  
"Whatever. I'm changing the channel."  
  
"Lois and Clark is a very good show, Angel."  
  
"Which is why it got canceled?"  
  
"I bet you'd watch it if it was called Lois and Dick Clark."  
  
"Spike, can you shut up long enough to let me figure out what show this is?"   
  
"It's Dawson's Creek."  
  
"Really? I thought this was Tristian."  
  
"Gilmore Girls Tristian turned into Dawson's Creek Charlie. I never knew you were into small town teen series."  
  
"Are you kidding? My *life* is a small town teen series."  
  
"Angel, that made no sense at all. Your life was an aristocratic soap opera, your death a storm of torture and mayhem."  
  
"That was very poetic."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"No, really. I knew this girl once, her name was Carmel. She used to say that 'when a vampire resorts to stormy metaphors, something good happens to the true believers'."  
  
"She really used to say that?"  
  
"Well, no. She actually said that Dean was hotter than Tristian, but it's derivative, don't you think?"  
  
Spike stared blankly. "Not at all. Change the channel, I've seen this episode."  
  
"I haven't. What happens?"  
  
"Dawson's dad dies."  
  
"Finally! God, that man was annoying. He's everywhere! He plays the dad in Smallville, the boyfriend in Sex and the City, Adam."  
  
Spike stared blankly again. "What the hell's the matter with you? Mitch wasn't in any of those things. And who exactly is Adam?"  
  
"Evil monster hybrid, remember him? Made a deal with you to remove your chip?" Angel smacked Spike upside the head.  
  
"Ow! What was that for?"  
  
"Conspiring against Buffy."  
  
"That was over a year ago!"  
  
"I know, but I just remembered. Hey," he leaned towards the screen after changing channels again. "What's this? Why does Carter have a beard?"  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. "It's a fifth season episode, Carter has a beard. I don't know why you're so surprised."  
  
"Because I'm supposed to *assume* that the cast of ER are growing beards in honor of the fifth season?"  
  
"Because no show can go on for four straight seasons without turning bloody rotten."  
  
"Ah, I was wondering when you'd whip out the bloody. As a friend of mine, Carmel, would say: 'no shared TV watching experience is complete without a bloody English accent.'   
  
"Are you kidding?"  
  
"No. Okay, yes," Angel conceded.   
  
"How many hours have we been in here again?"   
  
"Three, and counting."  
  
"And when does the sun set today?"  
  
"Six oh-twelve exactly."  
  
Spike let out a long, repressed breath slowly. "Rrrrrrrrright..."  
  
He leaned back against the couch and stared at the clock on the wall.   
  
4:43 PM  
  
The two bodies were still sprawled in the same position when the phone rang, startling them both.  
  
"Hello?" Angel picked up.   
  
"Whassup?" An unfamiliar voice asked.  
  
Angel shrugged, confused. "Nothin'. What's up with you?"  
  
"Nothin'," the voice sighed. "Watchin' a game, havin' a Bud."  
  
"Oh. Really? Is there an interesting game on? Because this episode of Seinfeld has already been on twice this week--"  
  
The other end of the line hung up abruptly. Angel raised confused eyebrows at the receiver before hanging up the phone himself and turning to Spike. "Well, that was rude."  
  
"Who was it?" asked Spike with disinterest. Angel repeated the conversation. "You idiot," Spike snorted when he finished.   
  
Angel growled. "I'm sorry?"  
  
"It was a prank call based on the old Budweiser commercial campaign. I can't believe you don't remember."  
  
"Well, *sorry*," Angel said haughtily.   
  
"I mean, from our conversations today one would think you spend all hours the sun is up watching reruns of TV shows."  
  
"One would think the same about you."  
  
"I suppose one would be wrong in both cases," Spike assumed, half threatening.   
  
"One would be wrong in *my* case. I suppose one would be dead in yours."  
  
"You bet your arse one will," Spike smirked. "Now change the channel, Clarky."  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"Now who's begging whom?" Spike grinned. "We both know what's going to happen. Elaine buys the guy Tic-Tacs, George brings the injured squirrel to Kramer's talk show set and--"  
  
"Newman brings Jerry's girlfriend with all the toys. Yeah, I know." Angel started flipping through channels rapidly.  
  
"Hold it! Go back to WXRC." Angel complied. "Stay on this channel, it's Xena."  
  
"Come on, you watch *Xena*?"  
  
"As if you don't."  
  
"Hercules was much better."  
  
"Hercules had no breasts."  
  
"True. But Autolycus hardly ever went on Xena."  
  
"Also true. Autolycus rocked."  
  
"Don't say 'rocked', Spike, you sound American."  
  
"God forbid," Spike shuddered.  
  
"You know, an old friend of mine--her name's Carmel--always said that 'when Autolycus comes onscreen, even the British start screaming.'"  
  
"I'll bet she did," agreed Spike with amusement.  
  
They watched the episode for about five minutes, until Angel said: "Spike, I swear, if don't stop making swishing noises every time they wave a sword I will shoot you."  
  
"I'm a bulletproof corpse, remember?"  
  
"Which will make my multiple shots all the more enjoyable."  
  
"Charlie said once, 'if they're shooting at you, you must be doing something right.'"  
  
Angel frowned. "You mean Tristian-Charlie?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Charlie Salinger?"  
  
"No."   
  
"Charlie from Sisters?"  
  
"Who was Charlie from Sisters?" asked Spike, baffled.  
  
"The fifth, lost sister."  
  
"Oh, right. No."  
  
"X-Men Charlie?"  
  
"I don't think there's a Charlie on X-Men."  
  
"The Professor..." Angel replied weakly. "Charles..."  
  
"God, no."  
  
Having had enough, Angel burst: "Then who the hell are you talking about!"  
  
"Charlie Young, West Wing. Jesus, Angel, what's nestled up your--"  
  
"Don't say it, Spike."  
  
"I was going to say armpit."  
  
"That's disgusting!" Angel made a sound. "I'm just edgy at the thought of spending seventy-four more minutes in this room with you."  
  
"I thought we were having a great time. It really felt like we bonded during that Everybody Loves Raymond marathon."  
  
"Everybody should take a letter opener and stick it in Raymond's skull."  
  
"See?"  
  
"And yet, somehow the thought of prolonging this day of couch-potato impersonations doesn't appeal to me."  
  
"That's too bad."  
  
"Seventy-three minutes, and I'm outta here."  
  
"Yeah," Spike said. They watched the rest of the episode in silence.  
  
5:16 PM  
  
"Charlie should get a bigger part on the show."  
  
"Tristian?"  
  
"No, West Wing. They should cut down Sam's lines and hand the screen time to him."  
  
"Since Rob Lowe freaks you out," Spike guessed correctly.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Because he looks like Wesley."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I know. It scares me too."  
  
"And they both trip over things constantly! Is it a thing that comes with the square jaw and glasses, or maybe the height and the haircut--"  
  
"Okay, you've put way too much thought into this."  
  
"Well, Cordelia likes to watch. She's says it brings up the intellectual level in the office, but I know all she wants is for Josh and Donna to get together."  
  
"Never happen."  
  
"That's what I tell her, but she sticks to her delusions, just like she did when I warned her about Max and Liz."  
  
Spike broke the short silence that followed. "Max and Liz *did* get together, Angel."  
  
Angel blinked. "Really?"  
  
"You haven't been keeping track, have you?"  
  
"Well, slaying's been busy in LA..."  
  
"I could see that by the way you managed to recite the synopsis of every Friends episode this season an hour ago."  
  
"Okay, so I have *some* free time."  
  
"'So, here's when Brad Pitt comes in and it turns out that in high school he and Monica--'"  
  
"A lot of free time."  
  
"How can you not know about Max and Liz, then?"  
  
"Well, I have this theory--"  
  
"Which you know I'm *dying* to hear--"  
  
"--That no show is actually good after season three."  
  
Spike thought about it for a minute. "I think you're right." He also remembered pointing out that same fact not three hours ago, but decided not to comment, as Angel was the one with the remote and could switch back to Bloopers any time.  
  
"I am right. The exception being--"  
  
"--ER."  
  
"Exactly. That went bad in season five."  
  
"Beard and all."  
  
"Yup."  
  
"So if most shows suck, how do you explain the fact that the two of us apparently watch so much TV?"  
  
"Well, I had this friend once--"  
  
"Carmel?" Spike rolled his eyes.  
  
"Yeah, how'd you know?"  
  
"Lucky guess."  
  
"Anyway, she used to say that you get so attached to the characters that you have to watch them, even when the dialogue between the guy and the girl resorts to 'no, I love *you* more'."  
  
"That's what she said."  
  
"Yes. And then she added that the reason could also be that the sun is up for twelve hours every day and vampires don't need that much sleep."  
  
"Uh-huh. I believe you, Angel."  
  
"Why shouldn't you?"  
  
Spike directed a hard stare at him and decided to give in. If imaginary friends were what kept Angel in LA instead of Sunnydale, then let him have his fun.   
  
"So, what other shows did Carmel like to watch?"  
  
"She liked most anything, she was a very open girl. The only thing she regretted was that there was no show that really combined horror, humor, drama and the supernatural very well."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"I was the one who brought it up, actually. It seemed that other shows combined these ingredients irregularly, but never created the perfect mixture of the four. Only when I said it I didn't use cooking metaphors. And then she'd always get this mysterious smile on her face and nod, as if she knew something that I didn't."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"I don't know. Maybe she knew of a show that takes place in a small town where a group of teenagers humorously yet touchingly fight evil on a daily basis, without ripping off ideas from other shows."  
  
"You mean... kind of like our life?"  
  
Angel snorted. "Who would want to see a show about you?"  
  
"You'd be surprised!" Spike retorted with indignation.  
  
"Anyway, you're not a teenager."  
  
"I could get a spin-off."  
  
"Dream on. If anyone gets a spin-off, it's me."  
  
"Whatever," muttered Spike, annoyed. "What time is it?"  
  
Angel checked. "Six PM exactly."  
  
"Twelve minutes to go."  
  
"I'm counting them down."  
  
"You do that, Clark-spin-off-Seinfeld Boy."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Never mind," Spike growled. "The television is melting my brain."  
  
After five minutes of 3rd Rock From The Sun, Angel said, "we're never speaking of today again, are we?"  
  
"No way."  
  
"Okay. Because if let anyone know about Gilmore Girls, I'll let Buffy know you watch Days of our Lives."  
  
"I do not!"  
  
"I happen to know for a fact that you were the one who originally suggested the devil-possessed-Marlena plotline."  
  
"How... how did you know?"  
  
"I have my sources. Carmel had hers, too."  
  
Spike looked up sharply. "Really?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Carmel is real?"  
  
"What did you think?"  
  
Spike ignored the question. "Why did you bring her up so much today?"  
  
"Today's her birthday, April 28th. I always remember her this time of year. Sadly, now she's in a far, far away land..."  
  
"She's dead?" asked Spike sympathetically.  
  
"God, no! She's in Israel."  
  
"Ah, Holy Land, no visits for Angel the vamp. That's sad."  
  
"Save the sympathy for someone who cares enough to change the channel, Spike."  
  
"Damn! But, Angel, Days is on."  
  
"Fine, but only for a minute. The second that clock hits six-oh-twelve I'm out of here, and I'm throwing Xander's remote off a cliff."  
  
"Just as long as we get to see who's the father of Kerry's baby."  
  
After a minute Angel rose from the couch and left, leaving Spike alone in front of the blaring TV set.  
  
6:13 PM  
  
Angel stepped back into the basement and settled comfortably on the couch. "But only till Kerry says who the father is."  
  
"I hear ya." 


End file.
